


Thirteenth

by Bittersweet



Series: 30 Days of One Shots [13]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Bad Luck, Gen, Washington Capitals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:04:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bittersweet/pseuds/Bittersweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson is having a run of bad luck and Ovechkin shows him how to break it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirteenth

“Shit!” Tom said jerking his hand back as he bumped it against the shelf above his stall.

“Something wrong Tommy?” Green asked.

“I burnt my hand on the stove this morning,” Tom said shaking his hand slightly then reaching up again to grab his helmet.

“That’s not going to affect your game is it?” Orpik asked.

“No way!” Tom said staring at him. “It’ll be fine by our next game!”

They headed out onto the ice for practice and Tom started running drills with Michael and Laich. He was skating fast to get into position to catch a pass from Michael when something slammed into him and he tumbled to the ice.

“I’m so sorry Tom!” Ward said offering him a hand up. “I didn’t see you; are you okay?”

“Fine.” Tom took his hand and winced as he got back to his face. “Might be a little bruised tomorrow though,” he joked.

“Maybe you’re having bad luck,” Ovechkin said. “It is the thirteenth.”

Tom shook his head. “I don’t believe in that superstition.”

A bit later in practice a stick clipped his jaw and he almost took a puck to the face. As he was leaving the locker room the door flew open and hit him. He doubled over, clutching his nose.

“Do you need me to get one of the medics?” Backstrom asked as he helped Tom back to the bench.

“No,” Tom said wincing and moving his hand away gingerly. “I’m okay.”

“If you’re sure,” Backstrom said uncertainly.

“It will only get worse if you don’t do something to break the bad luck,” Ovechkin, the only other person still in the room, said.

“Ovie,” Backstrom said frowning.

“These things have to be taken care of early,” Ovechkin said. He looked at Tom sympathetically. “It could ruin your career if not.”

“What do I need to do?” Tom asked.

 

Michael wasn’t at the apartment when Tom got there, Ovechkin tagging along. They had stopped to grab some supplies and Ovechkin started setting things up in the living room.

“Hold this,” Ovechkin said handing Tom a thick white candle, lighting it then passing him a hockey stick to hold in his other hand.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Tom asked as Ovechkin started spreading salt in a circle around him.

“Of course it will work.” Ovechkin finished the circle and set the case of Gatorade at Tom’s feet. “Now you have to recite the NHL rulebook three times.”

Tom stared at him. “Are you serious? It’s two hundred and fifteen pages! I don’t know it by heart!”

Ovechkin sighed. “Fine. It may not work as well but you could try singing The Hockey Song for an hour. After the candle is burned out you should be free of the bad luck.”

“Thanks Ovie.”

“No problem.” He gestured for Tom to start singing and headed for the door. “Hi Wilson,” he said leaving as Michael came in.

“What are you doing Tom?” Michael asked walking into the living room.

“It’s Friday the thirteenth,” Tom explained. “I’ve been having the worst luck and Ovie told me how to fix it. I know it’s a long shot but I had to do something.”  
Michael stared at him. “Uh, dude? It’s Saturday.”

“What?” A quick look at the desk calendar confirmed Michael’s statement. “I’m going to kill Ovechkin!” He started for the door but his toe caught on the edge of a rug and he crashed to the floor.


End file.
